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“And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. modern. But you must tell her. You care for me a little, I know. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly.
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